


Headache

by dragonwriter24cmf



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwriter24cmf/pseuds/dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: The Key gives Gwendal terrible headaches. Lucky for him, he has a mother who knows how to help.
Kudos: 9





	Headache

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to the creators of Kyou Kara Maou.

**Headache**

Gwendal flinched as a stab of pain crossed his left temple. With a grimace, he reached up and rubbed his eye.

The flashes of pain from his Key were getting more frequent. And more intense. He grimaced again, then closed his left eye, wincing as pain stabbed through his skull. He'd had bad headaches before, but this...this was worse than the concussions he'd taken from some of Anissina's more violent explosions.

Gwendal sighed and slumped forward in his chair. Conrad was with the king. He was grateful for that. He didn't want his younger brother hovering over him, concerned and trying to pretend that his arm wasn't causing him agonizing pain. It was bad enough that Conrad had to suffer his own Key, he didn't need to be worrying over Gwendal's as well. After all, there was nothing they could do about it.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. He swallowed hard, straightened, then pulled his impassive mask back into place. “Enter.”

The door opened, revealing his mother, Lady Celi. The bright green eyes were dark with concern. “Gwendal dear, is everything all right?”

“Yes. I'm...” he winced as another stab of pain shot through him, almost blinding in it's intensity. He swallowed hard on bile, and forced himself to speak normally. “I'm fine. Just a bit tired, perhaps.”

“You have a headache don't you.” Celi stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. “Gwen dear, you don't have to hide it from your mother.” She came to the desk, then around it to brush gentle fingers across his face. “Is it...because of that legacy, which you have been forced to bear?”

Gwendal sighed. He should have known better than to try to lie to her. “It's a little troublesome. But I'm really all right. If you're concerned about the Keys, you should probably see to Conrart.”

“It's strange.” A sad smile curved Celi's lips. “I was just with Conrad and His Majesty, having tea. I saw Conrad's arm was paining him, but when I asked him about it, he assured me it was all right. And then he told me that I should come to check on you. That your own Key would be causing you pain, and you probably wouldn't want to tell anyone.”

Gwendal sighed and put a hand to his temple, trying futilely to massage away some of the agony. It didn't help, but he couldn't stop himself. “I appreciate the concern, but...”

“Dear Gwen...” Celi's voice was tender as she interrupted him. “Won't you please allow me to help you, as I used to do? I know I can't completely take away your pain, but surely a mother should be allowed to do whatever she can for her sons. Don't you agree? And I can at least make it a little better.” Her hand stopped his with a touch, then cool fingers stroked his temple again.

The light, gentle touch of her hand eased just a fraction of his pain. He blinked his eyes open and saw her watching him, love and concern in her green eyes. He sighed once more. “If you wish.” He set his pen down, and leaned back in the chair. “I suppose I could take a short break.”

Another sad smile graced her face. “That's a good idea.” She stepped away from him, then moved to shut the curtains of his office windows, shrouding the room in semi-darkness.

The dimness was a blessed relief. Gwendal exhaled, then relaxed against the chair as his mother came to stand behind him, her gentle, soft hands cupping his face. One slender hand curved along the side of his jaw, the other over his brow and his eyes, pulling him gently back into a resting position. Gwendal let her tug him back, let the tension ease from his shoulders and brow. Moments later, soothing majutsu flowed through his head and neck, down his shoulders, easing away the tension and pain.

The pain dropped dramatically, and he suppressed a sigh of relief. The pain wasn't gone entirely, but at least it was somewhat bearable. He was half-tempted to pull away, but he didn't move. Celi knew what she was doing. She'd let him go when she was ready, just as she always had.

It had been a long time, since he'd let his mother soothe his headaches. Usually, he used ice, or took one of Giesela's potions, made specifically for him. The cool touch of his mother's hands reminded him of the first time. The first time he'd had one of his truly awful headaches. She had been there for him then too. He relaxed into her hands, and let his mind wander over the old memory.

_He'd been seventeen at the time. Already Lord of Voltaire Province, his father's heir. Already a ruling lord. And, of course, the Maou's eldest son. A stressful position on both counts. At seventeen, he'd been painfully aware of his status as the most junior of the Ten Aristocrats, and of the constant scrutiny that came with being the Maou's son. He'd also been young enough to be sensitive to the whispers, the stares, the subtle power plays that he'd since learned to ignore._

_He'd been nursing a low-level headache for days, result of too much tension and not enough sleep. But that morning, he'd woken feeling as if his own pulse was going to pound right out of his skull. It had hurt worse than any explosion he'd ever been in, worse than the one hangover he'd been stupid enough to incur. He'd lain in bed for several minutes, breathing through it, then gritted his teeth and tried to get up._

_Both actions had been a mistake. The pain had exploded, leaving him breathless and sick to his stomach with agony. He had honestly been unable to remember a time when he had ever felt worse. He'd collapsed back on the bed, trying not to groan aloud, involuntarily curled up with his arms over his head._

_By then he'd known something was wrong, and he'd been ready to summon a healer. But the effort to push aside his curtains and call for a servant had proved yet another mistake. Not simply because moving hurt, but because the light coming through his windows felt as if someone had shoved red-hot pokers into his head and ground them against his skull. Shutting his eyes had dulled the pain, but only enough for him to roll over into the dark recesses of his mattress, head buried in his blankets as the agony pounded through him._

_He had no idea how long he'd remained like that, that morning. He'd had no way to focus on anything except the pain. He only knew that, at some point, his door had opened quietly, and he'd heard his mother's voice. “Gwendal dear? I saw you weren't at breakfast. Is everything all right?”_

_He'd only managed a single word in response, and even that had been almost unbearable. “Mother....” The word had ended on a groan of renewed pain._

_“ Gwen?” he'd heard the concern in her voice, but sitting up had been beyond him. For that matter, he hadn't felt he had the strength to even open his eyes._

_Footsteps, and then his mother's presence at his bedside. Too much light, as she pulled back the curtains.“Gwen? Are you ill?”_

_The_ _ sound of her voice, soft as it was, had reverberated like knives on slate. He'd winced. “Mother...please...I...”_

_Gentle hands had touched him. “Oh. Do you have a headache?” Her voice had been much softer._

_“ Yes.” He had suppressed the urge to whimper, but it had been a near thing._

_“ Stay still.” Cool fingers had brushed his aching, throbbing skull. Then he'd heard the sounds of movement, and minutes later, the room had begun to dim as his mother pulled the curtains. The relief from light induced agony had been enough to leave him limp._

_More sounds of movement, then Celi had come to his bedside, and he'd felt her weight settle on the mattress. “Poor Gwen. I had hoped you wouldn't have to face these. Still...I can at least take care of you. Lie still, my darling son.”_

_Cool hands on his brow, and then healing magic. He'd wanted to pull away, embarrassed by the attention, but his pain had been so great that all he'd been able to do was relax into her touch. After a few moments, as the pain faded under her care, he'd concluded that he didn't care how embarrassing it was to be seventeen and lying in bed, being treated by his mother. He wasn't moving._

_After several minutes, the pain had faded to a mild ache behind his eyes. Celi's hands had lingered, then smoothed his hair back from his face. “There. That should be better. Why don't you rest, take the day off?”_

_He'd blinked at her. “I have work to do...”_

_“ It can wait.” She'd smiled at him, then gently cupped his face. “I know you're always so diligent, darling Gwendal, but if you try to work too soon, the headache will only return. It's best to rest and let yourself recover. At least, that's the advice Julia always gave your father, and still gives me.”_

_He'd been surprised to hear his father had suffered headaches. He knew his mother did, but his father had always been rather stoic. Then again, he did remember a few times that his father had stayed shut away, in his quarters or in his office, and days when the lines around his mouth had been deeper, his shoulders just a little more tense._

_Celi had smoothed his hair again, and smiled gently. “Rest, darling Gwendal. I'll tell the Council I have you doing something special for me.”_

_He'd protested. “You shouldn't lie...not...just because I'm...unwell...” He'd felt like a weakling, and a bit of a coward._

_“Well, having my son take care of himself is a favor to me. And if you were to find the time to make something for me, I'm sure that would count.” She'd smiled at him._

_He'd swallowed, shaken his head, but he really hadn't been able to voice a protest. After all, the thought of his mother, his Queen, telling the assorted Ten Aristocrats that he was sick, stuck in bed because of a headache, of all things...it was embarrassing. Finally, he'd simply yielded, and shut his eyes with a sigh._

_Celi's hand had brushed his cheek. “That's right. Sleep is the best thing for you, my dear child. Rest. I'll have someone bring you food later.” He'd felt another, gentler rush of healing magic, and been asleep before he had time to protest._

“There. That should feel better.” Celi's voice brought Gwendal out of his memories. He blinked as she lifted her hand from his eyes.

His head still ached, on the left side and behind his left eye. But it wasn't much worse than it sometimes felt when he pulled an all-nighter on paperwork. It was certainly magnitudes better than the agony he'd been feeling previously. He blinked again and focused on a thin shaft of sunlight coming through his curtains. It didn't hurt to look at it, as it had previously.

“Thank you. It's much better now.” He offered his mother a smile.

“I'm glad. I was afraid, because of the Key, that I might not be able to do anything for you.” Celi's eyes were sad.

Gwendal reached up and caught her hand gently with his own. He held it carefully, trying to convey his own feelings of love and care. He wasn't good at saying the words, and he knew it. “Your presence has always helped.”

A tremulous smile touched her mouth. “Dear Gwen. It's so kind of you to say, even though I know I must have been the source of many headaches for you. And even now...”

“Even now, you are my mother. Mothers will always be headaches to their children, according to His Majesty. Just as children, and kings, are often trials to those who must look after them.” How many headaches had Yuri induced, running off on one wild tangent or another? Greta was easier to deal with, but every time he left her in Anissina's care, he had to fight migraines when he returned. “Even so...I do not regret anything. Besides...even if you might have accidentally given me a headache or two, you have also been there to take them away as well. Ever since the first time.” He looked into her eyes.

“I didn't know you still remembered that.” Warmth replaced some of the sadness in Celi's eyes.

Another small smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Of course I do. I was seventeen.” he squeezed her hand gently. “You don't need to worry. His Majesty and His Excellency and the rest of us will take care of the Boxes, and then this will be behind us. And until then....” He paused. “If I have a headache again, I'll be sure to tell you, or Giesela.”

“All right.” She smiled, then leaned down and kissed him lightly on the brow, just over his left eye. “Thank you, dear Gwendal. I'll leave you to your work now.” Then she straightened, turned, and left his office.

Gwendal watched the door shut behind his mother, then sighed and turned back to his paperwork. If he worked steadily, he could get it done and take some time to relax. A nice quiet evening with Greta or Yozak, or even talking to Hube or Conrad or Gunter about nothing in particular sounded nice.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bonding time between Celi and her oldest son. Because they both need it.


End file.
